The Sleeping Man
by Malice Shaw
Summary: Makes you wonder who's doing what to you while you were sleeping... Yaoi, rated for strong sexual content. Dedicated to the beautiful Veuki.


**The Sleeping Man**

She was soft, so soft. 

Her skin, milky white and bathed in the morning light shone brightly with a heavenly glow. It was like a sheen, the soft lines of perspiration coursing her unmarred skin only enhanced the exotic look of vanilla that she held, pure and off white. Each time he touched her it felt as if it burned, his hands reddening against the satin she moisturized every day, slathering it on after her shower. Her softness extended into her hair as well, the dark, silken strands of woven silk flitting between his fingers, as dark and alluring as the feather light kisses her eyelashes gave her cheeks as she slept. 

He sat there, listening to her breathing, rhythmic sounds escaping her lips, soft whispers of air. He pulled himself into a sitting position, and watched her then. Such beauty, such delicate beauty, her nude form a masterpiece to the eyes. Delicate neck, splaying gently into shoulders of powder white, down to the supple curvature of her breasts to her narrow waist. Her fingers, simple and clean, slightly roughened where what excited him most. They laid splayed upon her navel, her thumb and finger forming a heart unconciously in her sleep, He liked them, so meak looking, and yet so strong. 

What enticed him most was staring at them in her sleep, and sometimes taking one into his palms, and stroking his face with hers. The slightly roughened skin, the skin that onces caressed _him_ so lovingly, now touched his face. In his mind's eye he saw the lithe fingers trailing seductivly down a bronzed chest, glistening with sweat, deft little fingertips playing with the pendent pressed closely to his clavicle. Their dainty little tips fell to _his_ ribs, _his_ torso, and pressed deftly against _his_ navel, her nails trailing crimson welts across the skin of _his_ back, blood staining underneath the white eclipses. As he gazed on, the nails were still pearl white, the subtle hint of clear nailpolish still glinting in the light. He wrapped his digits around her own, stroking the skin softly. The thought of them touching _him_ more lovingly, harder, clawing at his back with yearning suddenly made him angry. 

**_(_**harder**)**

Her hands, they were clean, cut, and soft. But he wanted them hard. He wanted them roughened, strong, trailing lines down his back, tugging at his hair. He wanted to be the one she climaxed over, the one whose name she cried out when her back arched against his chest when they made love, not merely sighing in content, and laying back down upon the soft bedcovers, and letting her eyelashes kiss against her cheeks once more. He knew she dreamed of him, knew that behind those closed lids his form dances across her dreams, and escaped with dismay when she awoke. 

**_(_**harder**)**

He flinched. He didn't like the thought of it. Of her, his precious, with her other lover, She told him listlessly that it was over, a casual fling, that he was gone from her life as quickly as he had entered, but he didn't believe her. He smiled, went through the motions of it, but he didn't enjoy it, yearning for the time when her kisses were feverishly pressed against his neck, nipping quietly at the skin as he thrust, leaving marks which he would boldly display amongst those who would giggle and turn red. But that was long gone, and it angered him, stroked his nerves with coal oil and lit a match. She would never give him up, give up his body, give up his heart. He clenched his fingers around hers once more and swallowed a sour taste in his mouth. 

**_(_**harder**)**

And she shrieked 

**_(_**harder**)**

loudly in her sleep, the pain becoming 

**_(_**harder**)**

until she finally screamed at him to get out of her room, out of her bed, and out of her life, only to cover her rose tinted lips and swear she didnt mean her words. 

And he would ignore her, leave her bed, her room, and feel no need to care. 

**_(_**the hunger**)**

He was wild now, a lone wolf on the search for prey. His jeans pressed hard against his body in lust, and he knew where he wanted to plunge into extacy. He had to know exactly what it was about him that he knew she loved so much. Why she loved to look at him, yearning for moments not meant to be, and moments quickly come and gone. 

Steadfast he walked, down the hall until his minds eye took him to _his_ room. The door was left unlocked. He knew it would be. It always was. Incase he needed to be somewhere quick, he had no time to punch in the assorted keytones to unlock the blasted thing. Many of the male personal did it; Unless it was the cowboy and his sprite girl, who kept it locked most of the time to seal in their echoing cries of extacy. He coouldn't help but remember a time when it was he and her tainting hallways, but that was long ago. 

Carefully he pressed the door, opening it slightly. Garden had changed the sliding metallic doors for punch in keys, making things easier for those involved to be in and out fast, and harder for those not to stay away. _Safety is not the truth in this matter_ he said, as he pushed the door open with a creak. Deftly he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, and almost laughed. 

His lover's former love, strong, masculine, and the only one she had once said could completely satisfy her whims when in a heated argument slept with a nightlight. 

It seemed absurd to him. He was strong, callous, and sometimes could be outright cruel. When their breakup occured he had taken off, and come back even more so, cold and calculating, and yet still a born and bread menace to whomever crossed his path. When his initial humor subsided, he took a gaze upon the man and watched him, freezing for an instant when he grumbled in his sleep and rolled onto his back from his side. He slept in the nude, his sinewy structure highlighted by the soft light that accentuated all equisite structures of his muscle tone, and highlighted the scar that drove across the bridge of his nose. The blanket had fallen down towards his hips, the crisp white linen pressing against his body, caressing the lines of his lower abdomen. His arm swung out forward while one rested above his head, entangling in his hair in his sleep. The pendand against his clavicle fell from his broad chest to his neck, winking in the subtle hint of light. 

He watched him, until finally he was still. Carefully he crept forward, leaning a smooth hand towards his blanket, and pulling it down to his knees. This was what she loved so much? This naked man, when dressed down and left vulnerable looked like a little boy. With out aknowledgin doing so, he carefully sat on the bed, letting his eyes wander down the sinewy paths of muscle, lined and stretched like those of a swimmer, not a muscle bound gym rat, as he had figured him to be earlier. Instead he was a meak little boy, right before him, tall, slight, and 

**_(_**beautiful**)**

ready to die if he so wanted it. 

The sight amazed him so, contradicting any rational he had. His rival, his angry enemy, who slashed at his face with a vengeance once before, and then destroyed him and was destroyed by him many times over, lay bareft to him now, vulnerable and careless as an untainted breeze. In his sleep he resembled an untouched child, and it drew him closer. Moth to a flame? He thought, as he ran a tentative finger down his chest, bereft of much hair, before doing it again. In his sleep, the other man groaned softly, seemingly reacting to the touch. Hesitantly, his fingers splayed into a palm, stroking his chest again, and pressing against the firm flesh, whilst the sleeping man groaned once more. It was an erotic sight, how in his sleep he seemed to yearn for touch, yet while awake he despised it. The erotic writhings seemed unthralled, riveting, and definetley showing pleasure as his loins began to take affect and show. 

_Dear Hyne I'm_ enjoying _this..._ He though, as he ran his hands down the man's chest, and flanked them to his hips. His own breathing had become strangely eratic, becoming in tune to the sleeping man's. he drifted his hands lower, and lower still to the sleeper's hips, and stared in amazement as he reacted to the motions of movement as well. His rival's hips bucked when he brushed his hands against the surging member, and his hands clenched the bedsheets tightly. The quick lisps of breath flitted through his lips, and carefully, he pressed the sleeping man's member down, feeling the roughened texture. His own breathing had become eratic then, as he moved his hands over the velvet skin, in rhythmic motion, pulling gently. He didn't know why he was doing it, his mind, begging him to stop, but his body telling him it was the way, the only way to 

**_(_**be free**)**

make him understand _her_. 

Hiccupping gasps emitted from the man's lips, short intakes of air gasping through hissed lips. Unknowingly he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his own member and mimicked the movements, leaning his head back in extacy. A low gutteral sound emitted from his throat as he pumped harder, feeling emotions he dared not voice, for fear of awakening his sleeping partner. A hand lashed, and in his own extacy he gripped it and placed it on his body, moving it in motion to his own, and he leaned back, reveling in the intrusion, enjoying the roughened hands on his member, so much more than her hands were, much more, so much more. 

_Hyne... Dear Hyne..._ His mind couldn't comprihend it. It was like a joyful surrender, a wonderful, incredible seclusion, the missing piece to a puzzle long gone forgotten, yet once rediscovered was beautiful. He felt his peak overturning then, feeling the blissful rush of release that was once so pleasurable with her was now incredible with him. A rival, constituting such incredible luster? He thought, as he bend his head foreward to gaze down at the bucking boddy below him. The sleeping man's form thrust itself towards him, shoving into an unknown hole, gasping and moaning in his unawakened slumber. Quietly he shut his eys, thinking of her, thinking of her soft pouty lips 

**_(_**that sooned turned into a scowl**)**

and supple young body 

**_(_**lined with hard muscle**)**

that sighed contented with his thrusts 

**_(_**that bucked willfully with his hands**)**

her nails, so clean and pure 

**_(_**were ragged, and cut slightly into the skin oh so pleasurably**)**

and never, ever once caused to hurt him 

**_(_**merely scarring his face**)**

while laying back with a stoic gaze on her face 

**_(_**with clenched teeth, and tightly shut eyes**)**

_...Oh Hyne Oh Hyne OhHyneOhHyneOhHyneOhHyne..._

Long dark stranges became shorter, a subtle, foxen chin became pointed harshly, and as he pulled he shouted, in his sleep, taking with him both their seed. 

Afterwards he murmered a name, and slumped back against the bed, his breathing harsh and fast, deep and loud. 

**_(_**pleasing**)**

He blinked, watching the man before him, soiled with both their fluids. After a few moments that seemed like an eternity, he redressed himself, rose and left. 

Walking down the hallway as if in a trance, he pressed on, his clear eyes suddenly becoming cloudy, storm clouds barely held in at bay. Once he returned to his own room, he gazed upon her sleeping form, and felt disgusted, with a hint of envy. Her softened form no longer excited him, and he reasoned it due to his entourage with a rival. Yet he did not feel wrong about the tryst; Instead, he felt it was the only thing that was right. 

Quietly, he crept back into their bed and nestled against her, leaning his cheek against hers. His movements awoke her then, and she turned, facing him. 

"Are you okay?" She whispered, staring into his face cryptically. 

"Oh, I'm alright, Rinoa." He said, in a voice not his own. "Go back to sleep." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah." 

"Alright..." She whispered, her voice suddenly sounding choked. "Good night." 

He didn't answer her then. Instead he replayed the events in his mind, over and over. The whispered words of Squall, the name he gasped in the height of extacy aroused him further. He pondered awakening her, mounting her, and then leaving, to satisfy his lust, be he had no urge to do so. Instead, he pressed himself against her soft curves and played the course in his head once more, resting on the words he cried in his darkness laden rounds, and words he whispered back unkowingly. 

_Hyne... Please.._

**_(_**beg for me**)**

_Don't stop_

**_(_**I can't. Hyne, I can't**)**

_...I love you..._

**_(_**Beautiful**)**

_...stay with me tonight..._

**_(_**Always, for you, always**)**

The sleeping man cometh, he wondered wryly. Life was not the way he figured it to be. Pressing her closer to his body, he reveled in her warmth, and let his mind drift onward, onto a tryst he knew would occur again. Part of him felt guilty; Knowing now the true reason for their departure, and another part of him felt sorry for her. Yet the rest of him felt rejuvinated, as if discovering a pact of treasure hidden long ago that had always fathomed in the midst, but never found. He couldn't help himself. He laughed then, awakening her. 

"What is it?" She said, sounding far away. 

"Oh, nothing Rinoa." He said back, a grin on his face. 

"Are you sure?" Fear. She held fear in her voice. He didnt like it. "Seifer?" 

"I said it was nothing." Seifer smiled at her then, a true smile he finally felt for once. "Go back to sleep. I'll tell you in the morning." 


End file.
